


Ornament

by rudbeckia



Series: Henrupe ficlets [7]
Category: Silence (2016), The Revenant (2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of hunting, did i say fluff?, henrupe, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Follows on from day 4: fireplace.It is the next day. Andrew goes hunting. Francisco stays home and worries about him. God will provide, right?
Relationships: Francisco Garupe/Andrew Henry
Series: Henrupe ficlets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689181
Comments: 11
Kudos: 10
Collections: Kylux Advent Calendar 2020





	Ornament

When they wake, pale light seeps through the tiny window and the fire has shrunk down to a deep red glow under a cracked crust of grey-white ash, and Francisco shivers with cold. Andrew yawns and stretches, grumbling when his bare leg escapes the warmth of the blanket he’d dragged over them hours ago after their moment of bliss.  
“I’ll see to the fire, love,” Andrew says through another yawn.  
“And I’ll see to the coffee, love” Francisco replies, stretching out sore muscles on the pelt that has accidentally served as their bed.

And they both laugh at the familiarity of the words they say to each other every morning.

There’s no bread yet. Francisco quietly curses his procrastination then offers a quiet prayer of contrition for his sins of sloth and greed. Instead, after mixing dough while Andrew builds up the fire and kneading it while the coffee brews, he warms up the pot of leftovers from yesterday’s stew for breakfast. It’s mostly beans with the last few shreds of unlucky hare from Andrew’s last patient foray into the woods.

“I’ll go out this morning,” Andrew says between gulps of hot coffee, “and check the traps. I’ll take the shotgun and maybe we’ll have another hare or a deer.”  
“If there is nothing in the traps,” Francisco replies, “then it is not meant to be.”  
Andrew smiles and shakes his head. “You still think that if we are to have meat then God will have a hare wander into a snare and wait?”  
Francisco gives a one-shouldered shrug. “I only want you here with me,” he says, looking into the grinds at the bottom of his mug. “Not out in the cold where I will worry about you.”

Andrew pulls him into a hug. “Nothing would make me happier than coming home to you with a deer or a couple of fat hares to see us through another few meals. What else should I do? Sit by the fire like an ornament on the mantelpiece?”

Francisco knows this is an argument he can’t win. No, a _discussion_ that has no resolution in mutual accord. He fetches Andrew’s coat and makes him wear his own scarf (it’s warmer than Andrew’s) and checks his boots are warmed by the fire.

Andrew leaves with a smile and a promise and a kiss.

Francisco prays while he works. Some of the words are automatic—giving him the reassurance and comfort of routine while he sweeps and wipes and scrubs and stacks. Some are new, and for those words he stops and closes his eyes to focus on what he is asking for and what he is offering in return.

Andrew will be home by dusk, which is few, scant, hours away. When Andrew returns there will be fresh bread baking and red beans bubbling gently in some of the spices they are eking out until the trail to the village and road to the world beyond open again, filling the cabin with rich, warming scents. He looks at the mounds of risen dough, round and fat, and smiles as he snips and slices patterns into the perfect, glossy domes.

Andrew is back early, with three long, limp carcasses in his bag. “You said God would provide. My snares provided these.”  
Francisco smiles. He knows there is no point in arguing until after his love has eaten. “There is bread now,” he says with a smile, “and there will be beans in an hour or two. With some meat, now.”

Francisco points at the loaves he had taken from the oven minutes earlier. Andrew hands over the hares and follows Francisco over to the table that serves as workspace and dining room.

When he sees the baked-in pattern he laughs and throws his arms around Francisco.  
“I love you too,” he says. “And I thank God every day that He brought me to you.”


End file.
